


in the soft of the early evening glow.

by redhoods



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M, dumb boys in love, ronan's curly hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 13:46:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8164028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redhoods/pseuds/redhoods
Summary: When he had gone back to school in January, Ronan’s scalp had still been shaved. This is the longest Adam’s ever seen it, outside of pictures from before Niall Lynch’s death. He wonders if Ronan’s growing it out purposefully or if he simply hasn’t taken the time to trim it back down, then thinks that Ronan rarely does anything without a purpose.
Ronan runs a hand through his hair and more curls make themselves known. Want hits him then, hot and heavy, curling in his gut.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [makingbeautiful](https://archiveofourown.org/users/makingbeautiful/gifts).



> happy forever fucking late birthday, josh!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> i started this _three months ago._ after having the wild idea of ronan growing his hair out now that things are sort of settled.
> 
> title from move like you want by ben howard.

The sun is setting, coloring the sky in a vivid array of reds, oranges, and yellows. It looks like a painting of an imitation of fire, blurring sideways across the horizon, framed perfectly in the windshield of the BMW. Adam has no leftover focus to pay to the sky, focused on the road in front of him, counting the miles left.

Twenty-seven.

Twenty-six.

Twenty-five.

Twenty-four miles between him and the Barns. 

It feels like more, like every mile covered is another twenty minutes added onto his travelling time, nevermind the fact that he’s already breaking the speed limit. The speedometer is climbing higher as the miles tick lower. Ronan would be proud, he thinks, only slowing down long enough to make a turn. There’s no one else on the road, thankfully, nearing towards eight o’clock on a Sunday. Henrietta isn’t Boston, it’s not awake at all hours.

He can feel the Barns before he sees them, the undercurrent of power and of something being not quite right. The feeling settles under his collar bone, the feeling of being home again, of being where he belongs.

The BMW slides smoothly into the driveway, next to the truck. The truck looks ancient and Adam knows if he were to crank it, it would sound ancient, knows if he were to try to open one of the doors, they’d make a god awful creaking sound that would echo through the fields and bounce off the buildings. He also knows that the leather seats don’t stick to sweaty skin, that the bed holds impossible amounts of flowers, that the truck can haul an even shittier looking car behind it without using any extra gas. The truck would have to use gas to start with.

He climbs out of the car, uses his hip to shut the door and leaves his bags for later, already walking through the grass around the house. The cicadas are blocking out any other sound he might have heard and his shirt is already sticking to his skin from the humidity in the air. 

_Kerah!_ echoes through the air and he adjusts his course accordingly, until the sound of the cicadas becomes muted and he can hear Opal chattering before he sees her, loping around a patch of unnatural looking flowers with Chainsaw following her path in the air. At the center of the flowers is Ronan.

His steps falter as he stops and simply watches. It takes his mind a few seconds to catch up with what he’s seeing. Ronan tending to flowers, gently removing dead leaves and trimming back in places that only seem to make sense to him. His shirt is plastered to his back, darkened with sweat. His hair is what’s different though, flattened down against his scalp, the ends curling up. 

When he had gone back to school in January, Ronan’s scalp had still been shaved. This is the longest Adam’s ever seen it, outside of pictures from before Niall Lynch’s death. He wonders if Ronan’s growing it out purposefully or if he simply hasn’t taken the time to trim it back down, then thinks that Ronan rarely does anything without a purpose.

Ronan runs a hand through his hair and more curls make themselves known. Want hits him then, hot and heavy, curling in his gut.

Opal notices him then, making excited chattering sounds, vowels and consonants almost forming his name as she barrels towards him. Chainsaw reaches him first, settling on his shoulder as he lowers himself to a crouch, arms open. The force of impact nearly knocks him on his ass in the tall grass, but only just. He wraps his arms tight around Opal as he straightens, spins them around once, twice, three times, to Opal’s delighted cackles.

When he stops, Ronan is standing, watching them with a look that makes Adam grin a little wider, makes his heart thud a little harder as he sets Opal on the ground. She cackles again and takes off in a mad dash across the yard with Chainsaw following after her.

He opens his arms again and wiggles his eyebrows at Ronan until he scoffs. Adam half expects a scathing comment but Ronan simply starts picking his way out of his flower patch, before starting for him in long strides. This impact doesn’t nearly knock him on his ass, but it does knock the breath out of him.

Pressing his face into Ronan’s neck, Adam’s feels a little like his rib cage is being crushed, not only by the fierceness of Ronan’s hug but by the way his heart is trying to pound out of his chest. It takes him a few minutes to realize that Ronan is saying something, his chest vibrating with it, but Adam’s deaf ear is towards him, so Ronan obviously doesn’t mean for him to hear it.

He pulls back enough to be able to see Ronan’s face, taking in the sun tinged pink of his cheeks, feeling any leftover stress from finals drop away.

“You look like shit, Parrish,” Ronan finally says, one eyebrow arched.

It doesn’t dissuade Adam’s smile and it doesn’t stop him from reaching up and wrapping one of Ronan’s curls around his finger, “You look good,” he says softly, enjoying the way Ronan flushes and tries to duck his head. The curls make him look softer, younger. He looks a bit like Matthew, actually, though the rest of him is just as sharp as ever.

Ronan blinks at him, then smiles, slow and warm, a new look on his sharp features. The want wells up in him again, but before he has a chance to move, Ronan kisses him. It’s deep and familiar, the way Ronan bites at his lower lip and licks into his mouth. It has been nearly six months since he’s been able to kiss Ronan and now that he’s home, he doesn’t want to stop.

They break apart eventually and Adam’s pleased to note that Ronan’s panting a little, but so is he. He pulls his hands free of Ronan’s hair, doesn’t remember putting there in the first place and pulls back. “You need a shower,” he comments idly, plucking at Ronan’s sweat soaked tank top, “What were you even working on?”

Looking over his shoulder, Ronan shrugs his shoulders, tucking his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans, his perfected image of disinterest, “Dream flowers,” he shifts his whole body then to glance at the patch of flowers, “Opal and I fell asleep there about a week ago.”

“They’re beautiful,” he says, then glances up to where the sky's getting dark, “I should get my things out of the car.”

“Opal, we’re going inside!” Ronan shouts and catches his arm before he can move, kisses him hard and bites his lip as he pulls away, “Welcome home.”

\-----------------------

When Adam’s carrying the last box into the house, Ronan comes down the stairs, toweling his hair off and a pair of sweatpants slung low on his hips. He nearly drops the box on his feet and from the smirk Ronan gives him, he knows it. He swallows heavily and readjusts his grip on the box as he steps further into the house, “Where’s Opal?”

Ronan jerks his thumb back up the stairs, “In her nest,” he says, meaning Declan’s old room, “She’ll be up at the crack of dawn,” he warns then, tossing his towel over the back of the couch.

Adam hums, having half expected to have to wait her out for a few more hours before he could be alone with Ronan. He wonders if it’s a new thing since he’s been gone or if there’s something else at play. He deposits the box with the others to deal with them later and turns his focus back to Ronan, “I’m not doing that again.”

“What again?” Ronan asks, coming closer to him.

“A whole semester without coming home,” it hadn’t been his plan, but he’d loaded himself up on class, hoping to shorten his time in college, but in the end, it had been too much. It wasn’t worth the stretch and it wasn’t worth not being able to come back. “I missed you,” he adds softly, reaching out to pull Ronan to him, his hand splayed over Ronan’s side.

Ronan snorts and wraps both arms around him, closing up that last gap of space between them, “Glad you learned your lesson early,” he says and doesn’t give Adam a chance to respond before kissing him again.

It doesn’t matter how many times they kiss, it never gets old. He feels settled, grounded in the moment, in the feel of Ronan’s hand on his cheek. There’s nothing but them, the expanding and contracting of Ronan’s ribs under his hand, the hot want curling in his belly.

Ronan breaks the kiss to mouth at his jaw, nipping at the skin before starting to suck a mark into the side of his neck. Panting softly, Adam tangles his fingers in the hair at the back of Ronan’s head, his other hand sliding down to grip onto Ronan’s hip, “Ronan,” he sucks in a breath, tries again, “ _Ronan_ , bed.”

When Ronan pulls back, his eyes are dark, blue bordering on black and his lips are swollen, Adam shudders under his gaze and lets himself be pulled to the stairs. It’s not a bad view though, watching the muscles flex under the ink on Ronan’s back as he makes his way up the stairs. His grip is tight and he looks back twice, like he’s making sure Adam’s still there. It seems to ease him then, realizing that Adam’s there and not going anywhere.

They pass Opal’s room and Adam sees a hoof sticking up out of nest of blankets on the floor and shakes his head. Ronan tugs on his hand and turns them around and Adam finds himself backed against their bedroom door, Ronan covering his front, kissing the life out of him once more.

Adam fumbles behind himself until he gets his hand on the door knob and twists it, backing them into the bedroom.

The kiss breaks and he heaves out a breath, watching Ronan turn his focus onto the buttons of his shirt. He half expects Ronan to get frustrated with them and rip the shirt, but he doesn’t, takes them one at a time. Adam’s going a little out of his mind by the time Ronan’s done and shrugs the shirt off, letting it hit the floor.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Ronan says quietly, his focus on where he’s pulling Adam’s undershirt up his torso.

Adam cups his face, makes Ronan look at him, shudders at his blown pupils, the sliver of navy around them, “I’m always going to come back,” he says as sincerely, as earnestly as he can manage with his shirt shoved up to his armpits.

Ronan makes a noise low in the back of his throat and Adam’s shirt is forgotten when Ronan presses in, licking into his mouth, kissing him like it’s the last thing he’s going to do. It takes him by surprise when the backs of his knees hit the bed, but Adam goes with the momentum, landing on his back and pulling Ronan down onto his front. His lips feel bruised when Ronan finally pulls away and he lifts off the bed long enough for his shirt to be removed.

It seems to ease Ronan’s frenzy once more and Adam bites back a groan when Ronan simply pulls back, settled on his knees between Adam’s spread thighs. Ronan’s gaze is a heavy, physical thing and Adam resists the urge to curl in on himself, chest heaving as he spreads himself out, reaches out with one hand.

“Fucking hell, Parrish, look at you,” Ronan finally says, but there’s no anger there, only a reverence that makes Adam want to drag Ronan to him again.

He reaches out then and Adam arches when Ronan’s hands land on his chest, tracing the red that’s spread down his throat down to his nipples. A nail drags over his nipple and Adam gasps, hips bucking, before he finally manages to get a hand on Ronan, dragging him back down so they’re pressed chest to chest, skin against skin, “Missed you so much,” Adam breathes against Ronan’s ear, relishing in the full body shudder that it drags out of Ronan.

Curling his legs around Ronan’s back, Adam rolls his body up, punching groans out of both of them until one of Ronan’s hands lands on his hips, pushing him flat to the bed. Adam has to bite back an impatient whine, soothed by the look in Ronan’s eyes that promises something good.

His jeans come undone easily under Ronan’s insistent fingers and he lifts his hips so they can be pulled off, his boxers dragging down with them. “Come on, you too,” he urges quietly, reaching for Ronan’s sweatpants where the outline of Ronan’s dick is so obvious that Adam has to cup it, swiping his thumb over the head, feeling only a little smug when Ronan keens.

“Parrish, _Adam_ ,” Ronan’s fingers wrap around his wrist in a tight grip so Adam pulls back, bites on his lower lip when Ronan’s fingers move to hook in the waistband of the sweats and he releases a shaky breath when Ronan pushes them down in one smooth motion.

Ronan’s hand is hot like a brand when he shoves him back to the bed and Adam feels more than a little overwhelmed when Ronan throws a leg over his hips, straddling him.

His fingers scramble for purchase on Ronan’s hips when he starts rocking, their cocks dragging together and Adam didn’t expect to last long to start with, but it’s bordering on embarrassing just how close he is. It has been months though and Adam feels a little better when Ronan’s hips stutter, knows Ronan’s just as close.

Adam bends his his knees and plants them on the bed so he can rock up, feels satisfied when he sees Ronan’s entire body shudder, “Ronan,” whatever he was going to say next is swallowed when Ronan drops down to kiss him. It’s not really a kiss though, just them panting into each other’s mouths, sharing the same air. He tangles a hand in Ronan’s hair, tugs a little, and is surprised when Ronan’s whole body stiffens, warm liquid hitting his belly. It takes a few seconds for him to realize what has happened, that he made Ronan come just by tugging at his hair a little, “Christ, Ronan,” he breathes out, bringing his other hand up to run it down the length of Ronan’s spine.

Ronan makes a soft sound against his neck, teeth setting against the mark he put there earlier and Adam moans softly, hips shifting, trying to find some friction. A hand splays over his chest and Adam can only watch when Ronan lifts himself back up, cheeks pink and pupils still blown, so he ends up jerking when a hand wraps around his dick, “Come on, Adam,” Ronan’s voice is hoarse and his hand is just the right side of rough.

“You look so good like this,” Ronan starts and Adam groans, can never hang on long when Ronan starts talking, “Naked and flushed in my bed, sweaty and sticky, look like a wet dream.” The way Ronan says it makes Adam wonder if this is a dream Ronan’s had, but the thought is gone just as quick as it came because Ronan twists his hand, says, “Come for me, Adam,” and he does, back arched, Ronan’s name spilling from his lips.

He feels pleasantly hazy when Ronan presses back down against him and Adam can’t stop himself from sliding his hand into Ronan’s hair again, scraping his nails over Ronan’s scalp. Ronan goes boneless, melting against him, and Adam knows they should probably clean up and get some sleep, but he’s too content where he is.

Tomorrow, Opal will be up at dawn and Adam will have to unpack his boxes. The gang will come over in the afternoon and they’ll all eat and catch up. For now, though, he’s gonna enjoy Ronan’s weight pressing him into the bed, the feeling of Ronan’s curls between his fingers, and the fact that he’s finally home.

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on my [tumblr](http://redhoods.tumblr.com).


End file.
